


Spooky is Difficult

by livingforazirowley



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale is not good at spooky things, Crowley helps, Ficlet, Halloween, Jack-o'-lanterns, M/M, Non-native Writer, Not Beta Read, One Shot, Pumpkins, Spiders, We fall like Crowley, decorations, having fun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:14:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27248644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/livingforazirowley/pseuds/livingforazirowley
Summary: Aziraphale tries to make the bookshop spooky for the Halloween season. Turns out, he's not good at it, so Crowley lends a hand.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 33





	Spooky is Difficult

If only Crowley had seen this coming… 

He ran a hand through his hair and looked around him. The scene before his eyes was beyond disheartening. It was… scary, in all the wrong ways.

There were dozens of flies (made of papier maché, plastic or wool) all over the bookshop, giant balls of dust run from one place to another as if they were part of some nasty race and here and there, squashes. Some of them had been weirdly carved. And to top it all, Gregorian chanting was coming out of a gramophone.

“Spooky, isn’t it?” Aziraphale said. He was standing right next to Crowley, his hands intertwined and resting comfortably on his stomach. The angel looked…  _ pleased _ . 

“Spooky.” 

“Well, yes. It’s the season for spooky things, isn’t it? I thought I could give it a go this year,” he said, turning to look at Crowley.

“Aziraphale,” Crowley said, mustering all the patience he was able to. “you got  _ everything _ wrong.” Before the angel could say anything, he said, “I mean, for Hell’s sake, you even managed to buy and carve the wrong type of squash!”

“I- I did?” Aziraphale looked at the lanterns and started to pout. 

“And what is it with the flies? Why flies, of all the things? They make me feel like I’m at the office,” Crowley said, shuddering.

“Well, I thought that-” 

“And these giant lints?” Crowley continued, unable to stop himself. “I mean, I know you’re not overly excited about dust cleaning, but this just got out of hand…!” His voice was getting higher and higher as he spoke, reflecting the state of utter disbelief he was in.

“Excuse me, are you impl-”

“Honestly, angel, when you said you had decorated the bookshop for Halloween, I wasn’t expecting  _ this _ ,” Crowley said, waving a hand to point out at the mess that was standing before him.

Only a bottle of Rioja later was Crowley able to ignore his surroundings just enough to have a civilised conversation.

It was already chilly outside and the fire in the chimney was roaring, which the demon was grateful for. From time to time, sparks would come out of it as the stray spits randomly got in the fire. It was oddly satisfying.

“But I thought bugs were spooky…” Aziraphale was saying.

“Spiders, Aziraphale. Spiders are spooky. Flies and insects, on the other hand, are just icky.”

“Aren’t spiders an insect?” Aziraphale said, puzzled.

“They’re arthropodes. Or something like that, I don’t know! They’re just not the same as flies. So flies aren’t the same as spiders, which is why nobody uses flies as Halloween decorations,” Crowley explained. He let out a sigh and said, right before snapping his fingers, “For Hell’s sake.” The flies disappeared.

“You could have gotten rid of the rest, while you’re at it,” Aziraphale said to his cup, being as snarky as only an angel can be.

“I like to see the links burn, it’s hypnotising. And I won’t be sending all the squashes into the unknown, it would be such a waste,” he said, blankly looking at one of them. Was that a slug carved in it? “Anyway,” he said, “you got more of this?” He pointed at the empty bottle.

“Of course.”

With the glasses again filled with wine, Aziraphale asked, “So… what should have I done differently? Besides asking for your advice in the first place, that is.”

“You could’ve used my help alright,” Crowley said.

“I’m asking for it now,” Aziraphale replied.

“Well, getting the right type of squash would’ve been a good start,” the demon said. “How did you even manage to buy anything other than pumpkins? They’re literally  _ everywhere _ .” Crowley was still perplexed by such a feat.

“I see,” Aziraphale said. He snapped his fingers and all the squashes turned into pumpkins, some of them already carved. The next day, an article in the Tadfield Advertiser would claim that a mysterious thief had stolen all the pumpkins and jack-o’-lanterns in town. Crowley looked at him disapprovingly, but Aziraphale ignored him and smiled, pleased with his little mischief. “What’s next?” Aziraphale asked.

“Next? Uh- well, maybe replace the flies with spiders? And cobwebs,” Crowley suggested.

“Cobwebs? Really?” Aziraphale wrinkled his nose.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Crowley said. “you have tons of dust running around your floor. Cobwebs shouldn’t be an issue.”

“I guess you do have a point…” the angel agreed. He looked around and snapped his fingers once more, making the bookshop look like it had been abandoned centuries ago. Here and there, spiders (made of papier maché, plastic or wool) decorated the room. “Oh, this does look more Halloween-like, doesn’t it?” he said, pleased with the result.

“It looks closer to being spooky, I’ll give you that,” Crowley said. “But let me just-” he said, snapping his fingers once more.

The fake spiders Aziraphale had miracled turned into real spiders - spiders that would better listen to Crowley and stay where they were -. Some of the candles disappeared so the bookshop was dimly lit by the jack-o’-lanterns and a few stray candles that had become taller and blacker. The gramophone was now reproducing sounds coming directly from Hell - mostly agonising humans and laughing demons -. Here and there, a shadow would cross the wall without a warning. And Aziraphale wouldn’t know about this until a few days later, but if you opened one of the Bibles, a miniature Sandalphon would pop out and try to punch you in the guts.

“Thank you, Crowley,” Aziraphale said, marvelled by the result. “It looks so spooky…”

“My pleasure, angel.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, dear reader! Thank you for taking the time to read this little fic, I just hope you had a good time.


End file.
